


Left Right Left

by Dzannan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dzannan/pseuds/Dzannan
Summary: When you up and leave everything behind it's generally a good chance for new beginnings. Those usually don't include picking up a hitchhiker who may or may not be a convicted felon.





	1. Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all idk what I'm doing I just vomited this out at 4am. Stay tuned I guess?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You sure you want to do this Lu?”
> 
> He glanced over at the screen where Hana’s face was squinting worriedly at him, tossing her a tired smile. 
> 
> “Sure as I am about anything else!”
> 
> “So… not at all huh?”

Wake up. Rehearse. Get styled. Press meet. Perform. Meet fans. Party. Sleep.

Repeat.

There’d been a point where he’d been able to squeeze down time somewhere in that schedule but with the way things were going now he was starting to think that had all been a fever dream. Partying had been fun back then too. But when every club was a press opportunity, and every dance was scrutinized for vague romantic interest, it got old fast. That and running on an average of four to five hours of sleep tended to burn one out. There were a couple of things he still enjoyed. Meeting the fans was always rewarding, even if a few of them tended to get far too handsy for his liking. The press meets were good when they asked questions of substance; about his career, his ongoing PR feud with Vishkar, the vigilante group operating in Rio flying his logo as their banner. Lately though they tended to be increasingly skewed towards his personal life – if he was seeing anyone, if he’d slept with that guy he’d danced with in LA, if that girl from Rio really was the mother of his child.

The press back home didn’t help either. Tabloids he could understand; they were geared towards a very specific audience – the media equivalent of junk food for those that were looking for something to consume. But the snide racial undertones that peppered article after article in the mainstream publications was starting to grate on his nerves. It was 2075. You’d think after the omnic crisis humanity would have moved beyond those kinds of distinctions.

“ _You sure you want to do this Lu?_ ”

He glanced over at the screen where Hana’s face was squinting worriedly at him, tossing her a tired smile.

“Sure as I am about anything else!”

“ _So… not at all huh?_ ”

She grinned at him, all teeth, and he laughed, tugging at one of his locs sheepishly.

“That obvious?”

“ _It’s a big decision. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t nervous._ ”

He smoothed down the packing tape on the box in front of him for the fourth time, chewing on his lip as he wrote out the label in thick black marker. It was one box out of many in the small garage; the last of the lot. All of it would be going into storage for the time being – his more delicate equipment safely packed and padded right in the back of the room. The only things he’d be bringing with him were his digital keyboard and the ancient vintage guitar his Vovó had gifted him. The strings were in desperate need of replacing (there were very few places that even carried physical strings anymore) but he couldn’t really bear to put the old thing in storage. Besides, he might come across an antique store somewhere on his little trip, may as well take it along just in case.

“Has Flávio still been calling you?”

Hana made a little noise of impatience, scrunching up her nose.

“ _Almost every day. I get that his biggest star is taking a **really** sudden hiatus, but he really needs to learn to take a hint._ ”

Lúcio sighed, sliding the box into place against the wall with the others. He blinked at how empty the room looked now that everything had been cleared away.

“He’s just doing his job. I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him to stop bothering you. I'm doing this whether he likes it or not.”

He turned to face the door to his home, running a hand against the notches in the wooden frame fondly. The numbers felt more prominent somehow.

_86\. 101. 116. 137.5._

The paint was chipped, but he hadn't ever gotten around to fixing it back up. Most of the old place had seen better days, if he was gonna be honest with himself. There was peeling wallpaper in the living room, the carpet in his bedroom had stains that wouldn't wash out. He was fairly sure the parquet in the dining room had started to rot too. His parents had moved out years ago, citing the need for a bigger space as one reason, and their declining health as another. He’d bought them a nice ranch in the countryside after the rebellion, despite their protests. He couldn't leave this place himself though, even if his near constant touring had seen it practically empty anyway. There were too many memories etched into the spaces where the floorboards creaked.

He did a walkthrough of the house, pointing out its quirks to Hana, and telling her the stories behind them. It was only when she pointed out that he was starting to repeat his stories that he realised he'd been stalling.

“Guess this is it.”

He stopped at the front door, running a hand over the faded out crayon next to it. His Vovó hadn't let his parents wash it off.

“ _You make it sound like you're never coming back. You’re going on a break, not on a military op. Lighten up Lú._ ”

He laughed, her upbeat attitude infectious.

“I know. It's just… this feels different somehow. It's not like when I'm heading on tour. It feels like something big is gonna change.”

“ _You mean besides your hair?_ ”

Ah, right. He ran his fingers over his locs again, reminded of the striking pink he’d worked into it just a few days prior. Hana’s idea, of course. He hadn't actually considered changing how he looked until she'd pointed out that his posters still covered a good portion of the cities he’d visited across the globe. The pink was a little wild, but he'd never shied away from making a statement. He did, however, mourn the loss of his beard. His chin itched as if on cue, not used to being so bare.

“Still not sure this is gonna be enough to throw people off. Not like it's the first time I've changed up my look.”

Hana frowned in thought.

“ _It's your smile. Too recognisable. If you really don't want anyone following you, you gotta act like someone else. Don't be so friendly._ ”

That, admittedly, would be a little tough. It wasn't in him to be anything but pleasant with people; proper upbringing and rigorous PR training aside, he was generally a pretty sociable person. Part of the anxiety about this trip was the fact that he'd be cut off from a lot of his friends, the risk of someone accidentally leaking his whereabouts too great to maintain contact outside the occasional text to reassure them that he was okay. But Hana was right. His friendly demeanour was part of his brand recognition - if he wanted to avoid paparazzi on his tail he’d need to change it up.

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot.” He paused to lock the front door, hand hovering over the keypad a little longer than should have been necessary. “Guess I better start making a move before Flávio gets my dad to spill about this place. I’ll call you again once I'm across the border.”

“ _Yeah don't sweat it. Just ping me to let me know you're safe if you can't call, people seeing me on your screen is just as big of a giveaway as your froggy gear._ ”

He thanked her for her help before he ended the call, stomach doing backflips as he got into the car.

_This is it._

The authenticator scanned his palm and the engine hummed to life. He brought up his personal media feed on the holo display, swiping aside the warning about driving while typing. His inbox was blowing up, but that was the norm when you had 95 million followers. Although half of the messages were likely from Flávio begging him not to leave.

‘ _Taking some time to find me. Keep fighting the good fight till I’m back. You’ve got this! #biglove #bebacksoon_ ❤️’

He waved the display closed as it lit up with shares almost immediately. His fingers tapped the steering wheel.

“Here we go.” 


	2. The Swim of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waves. He could hear waves. An intense panic suddenly gripped him and he kicked again – away from the waves, away from that black water.

Quiet. Too much quiet. Where, what, when?

_Roadie._

Where was Roadie? He should be here. Would be here. Normally. But this wasn’t normal. The air burned. His face was wet. His everything was wet. Cold. Something was scratching at his legs and he kicked out. More scratching. Rough. Like sandpaper. Sand? He curled his fingers into the ground below him and pushed.

Up. He was up. He could see now even if he didn’t know what he was seeing. It was night. Had to be. Everything was black. Wait, no, his eyes were closed. Okay yeah, definitely night. Right. Where was Roadie?

“R-“

The word ended in a raking cough, the air still hot in his chest, dragging nails down the inside of his throat. Waves. He could hear waves. An intense panic suddenly gripped him and he kicked again – away from the waves, away from that black water. Everything went blurry, his head pounding with a pain he hadn’t noticed earlier; too caught up in the confusion. He wheezed, fell back flat on his arse. Right. He’d move tomorrow. Once Roadie got up he could carry him. Would carry him. Would probably start before he woke up. Roadie was like that.

Something danced into his vision. A sign.

_Playa Verde._

The laughter bubbled out of him, tearing through his throat despite everything.

“ _Roadie-“_ he managed to croak, stretching his hand out towards the words. “We made it.”

No one answered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one. Quick perspective switch. What do y'all think about switching back and forth? Not every chapter but more when the story calls for it. Y'all can let me know on here or PM me on my Tumblr @sabestrashart (art/writing blog) or @scarecroweyes (main).


	3. Junk Bond Trader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hitchhiker. His mind went through the thousands of ways in which this could play out, a majority of them ending in his sudden, violent death.
> 
> "Yeah, sure, where are you heading?”

Getting across the border had been easier than he’d thought it would be. A quick photo update to his digital passport and a grumpy snap at the immigration officer had been enough to assure them that, no, he was not THAT Lúcio and he really wished people would stop asking him that. He honestly felt blessed that his insistence on personal privacy meant that his full name wasn't publicly available. Initially it had just been to protect his family from any Vishkar retribution but now it was proving to have been generally a practical move.

The last few days had been nothing but smooth sailing; driving through quiet towns and bustling cities, checking into boutique hotels where he could stay in and mess around with his keyboard - not playing for any particular reason except for the sake of playing itself. He’d also been able to order a triple cheeseburger over the counter by himself for the first time in over three years.

“So why didn't you just drive straight through to Mexico?”

He huffed around the burger in his mouth, half swallowing before he answered.

“Too _mufft_ _attenffn_.”

He swallowed properly.

“Too much attention. They're gonna have eyes on the north border and the airports. Going through Caracas gives me a little time to have the commotion die down a bit.”

Hana looked thoughtful on the holo in his lap, safely out of sight from the window and any curious passers-by.

“I guess that makes sense.”

He hummed his assent, taking another chunk out of his burger, the sauce spilling out over the sides and smearing the corners of his mouth. Hana made a disgusted noise and he responded by sticking out his tongue at her - food and all - prompting a low shriek and a peal of laughter.

“You're so gross.”

He snorted.

“Not as gross as you when you're streaming.”

“That's different! When I stream I'm _getting in the zone_.”

They continued to bicker back and forth for the good part of an hour, Lúcio inhaling his burger and the side of fries with it, leaving the conversation briefly to exit the car and recycle the packaging. A pedestrian paused their walk to stare at him. A quick scowl was enough to send them scurrying on their way. Lúcio **never** scowled.

“It's gonna take me a bit to drive up the coast here, and I wanna hit the next hotel before it gets too dark. Call you again tomorrow?”

“Mmm we’ll see, depending on what time you call I might have a stream set up. I’ll ping you!”

Hana’s face disappeared off the screen as they said their goodbyes, and he was left to sit in silence. This was the part he didn't like. The engine hummed to life and he flicked on the radio, tuning in to the local classics station just to get his mind off how lonely this whole adventure was starting to get.

_That's what you get when you want to get away from it all. Friends are part of the deal._

He made a face at himself in the rear-view mirror, before pulling out of park.

\----

It was hard to stay sulky when faced with the kinds of views he was getting on his drive. Caracas had some of the most stunning beaches he’d seen, and they never failed to impress. Part of him itched to stop and get out on the sand, feel it between his toes - but he was already running behind schedule, and he knew that if he got started he wouldn't be able to stop till he was in the water. That was his self-control for you; indomitable when it came to his moral principles, completely helpless in the face of good food and a pretty view.

_Pretty faces too._

He grinned at the thought, a little embarrassed at himself for it, avoiding eye contact with his reflection in the window.

Two cars ahead of him, a blue sedan pulled up to the side of the road. He slowed cautiously, trying to keep from riding the bumper of the car in front. The sedan drove off again, and that was when he noticed the man standing on the curb.

He looked homeless, dressed in only a pair of shabby board shorts that looked like they'd been dragged through every sort of bad weather nature could throw at a person. They were patched - badly, with symbols drawn on crudely in marker, and covered in sand. The man himself was missing an arm and a leg on his right side, prosthetics looking like they’d been assembled out of scrap metal; the leg wasn't even a leg at all, just a simple peg with a massive hinge. Lúcio winced. That couldn't have been comfortable.

_Can't hurt to help._

He pulled over to the side, fingers counting out three hundred credits - enough for a warm shower, new clothes and some hot food, goodness knows he looked like he needed it. The man peered at him through the window, eyes looking a little crazed up close.

_On something, probably._

Nevermind that. Everyone deserved some help in life.

“Hey man, here you go, get something to eat.”

Thin fingers reached in to pluck the money from his hands and the amber eyes swivelled to focus on him in a stare that started to make him a little uncomfortable the longer it went on. The man smirked at him.

“Well I won't say no mate, but what I really need is a lift.”

Oh. The man jabbed his thumb pointedly in the direction Lúcio was driving in. A hitchhiker. His mind went through the thousands of ways in which this could play out, a majority of them ending in his sudden, violent death.

“Oh, yeah, sure, where are you heading?”

_That was **not** how he should have responded._

The man paid no mind to how tight his fingers were gripping the steering wheel as he clambered in on the passenger’s side. The smell of salt and gasoline started to permeate the car. Lúcio noticed the passenger seat getting wet. He shot the man a strained smile. The man grinned back.

“Mexico.”

“Oh hey, I’m heading that way too.”

_No Lúcio, that's the **opposite** thing you tell the dirty man potentially on drugs you just let into your car._

“Well ain't that lucky for me? Th’name’s Rat. You can call me… Rat.”

His laugh was high-pitched and wheezy. His canines pointed. He thought he caught a flash of gold in his mouth. The man – _Rat -_ dusted the sand off of his shorts. Lúcio watched as his floor mat was slowly covered in gritty white particles.

“Lúcio.”

Rat stared at him. He tensed, waiting for the moment of recognition. The point where he would be taken hostage and held for ransom by some guy he’d inadvertently welcomed into his car with no thought as to how dangerous that might be oh god he was going to die and he hadn’t even _gone anywhere-_

“Fancy fuckin’ names y’ got down here.”

He released the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and turned the radio back up, adjusting his side mirror as a cover while he composed himself. Something struck him then, and he looked around down by Rat’s feet.

“Don’t… Don’t you have anything you’re bringing with you?”

Rat scoffed and for a moment Lúcio felt a bit stupid for asking.

“Course I do. I’ve got me arm, and I’ve got me leg.” He waved and wiggled the respective prosthetics. “Th’rest is with Roadie… I think.”

The blonde scratched his head, looking thoughtful. Roadie. He didn’t look like a musician of any sort. Much less one who could afford a crew. But Lúcio really wasn’t anyone to judge. He had to fight to get to where he was now – and if the man was a musician, all the better to know that they had something in common, even if it was just that one thing. As he pulled the car back out onto the road, they sat in a terse silence, Rat fidgeting in the passenger seat, the sound of sand scratching at the synthetic leather grating on Lúcio’s already frayed nerves. He cleared his throat and felt those eyes turn back to focus on him.

“So… what kind of music do you play?”

Rat stared again. He seemed to be fond of doing that. Lúcio was not. It made him feel like the other was in on some joke that he wasn’t privy to.

“What?”

He tried again.

“You mentioned a roadie..?”

It seemed to take a few seconds to register, and then suddenly the man was breaking out in a small fit of giggles, metal arm thumping against the armrest heavily with each shrill laugh. Lúcio furrowed his brows.

“Yeah- Yeah, too right mate, I play music. Just- just blanked out for a second there.”

Lúcio’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he forced a smile.

“Cool… so… what kind?”

Rat looked right at him, face smug, baring his teeth in a wide grin before he announced, “ _Opera._ ”

_This is going to be a really, really long ride._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up to orient everyone, there were a few days passing between when Lúcio left and when Junkie washed up on shore, so Lúcio has been driving for quite a bit already. This chapter takes place two days after Junkrat washes up on the beach. Next one will explain his plans.
> 
> >:3c


	4. Five Finger Discount

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’got a nice face.”
> 
> Lu blinked at him.
> 
> “What?”

He’d waited two whole days for Hog to show up but there’d been zero sign of the big lug anywhere. No screaming, no windows breaking, no snorting laughter – nothing. The locals had started giving him the stink eye after day one; right cunts, none of their fuckin’ business where he got his eats. If Roadie’d been there they could’a shown ‘em what happened to people stickin’ their noses in the wrong place. But Junkrat was alone, and he had no bombs to light up any pigs that got on his case for starting a scrap.

It would have been easy enough to whip something up if he’d had his kit – but that had been strapped to Hog along with everything else before they’d taken off in that dinghy. In hind-sight it probably hadn’t been the best idea to trust a botch up boat to make it across the fuckin’ Atlantic but they hadn’t had too much of a choice. People got _really_ touchy over the royal jewels.

He snorted at the thought, lips curling up into a smirk. The bloke- _what was his name? Lu-sommin’_ – threw him a curious look.

“Just thinkin’ ‘bout how I got ‘ere.”

The man looked at him expectantly. That was fine. He’d learn not to. Especially once they stopped over somewhere for the night. Get a lift, nick the car, book it to Mexico like they’d planned. Roadie was probably already on his way there. That’s of course, if he wasn’t… well. But that was not likely. If there was anything he was sure of it was that nothing short of the bloody end times would stop old Hog. Bit of piddly water wasn’t gonna do it.

He glanced over at Lu, sizing him up. He looked like he would be easy enough to deal with if he caused any trouble. Some muscle, but short. Very short. And pretty. Lashes like a doll. Back in Junkertown there’d been a girl with lashes like that. She’d cut up anyone she caught staring though so he’d never really had the time to get a good look.

“Uh…” _Bugger_. “You’re kind of… staring.”

Well, do nothing halfway. He shrugged.

“Y’got a nice face.”

Lu blinked at him.

“What?”

He waved a hand impatiently, letting out a huff.

“Your face. It’s nice.”

“Um… thank you?”

Was that a question? It sounded like a question. He should probably answer.

“Yeah.”

He picked at a stray thread on his shorts, frowning down at the small hole that was forming. Another bloody thing to patch once he caught up with Hoggie. Hopefully it wouldn’t get too big before then. Bad enough the sand was scratchin’ ‘im up, he didn’t need his only pair of pants falling off his arse in pieces.

His eyes wandered back over to the driver’s seat. Lu was dressed nice. Man could afford a car, course he would be able t’afford a good set o’ clothes. Nothing _too_ fancy. Nice pair of shorts. Pink shirt that matched his hair. He’d never seen hair that colour before today. Then again, hadn’t seen lots of things before he’d left the Outback. Hadn’t seen cars this nice. Hadn’t seen any crown jewels. He _had_ seen a couple a’ cute blokes but not like this. The Outback wasn’t a place that made people _pretty_. Plenty a’ guys missin’ bits and pieces. Not that he _minded_ , really, but it made people rough all ‘round. Weren’t a good many people you could trust to get caught wit ya pants down around. Some were just as likely to stab ya as they were to be down for a good root. Lu didn’t look like he’d stab anybody. He looked like he’d actually want to touch you beyond the basics. He looked like his hands would be soft.

Right. That train of thought would get him a much bigger problem in his pants than a few holes. He fidgeted in his seat, eyes darting about for something to _do_ damn it. He’d never been in such a small bloody space for such an extended amount of time with nothing for his fingers to work on. He settled on mucking about with the radio, flicking from station to station, ignoring the annoyed glances Lu was throwing him with those fuckin’ doe eyes.

He finally stopped on something he liked – it was low, crashing noise, crackling and hissing, no words, just _sound_ – something distracting enough it could keep his mind off of things it shouldn’t think about.

“This is pretty good eh? What sorta music is this?”

Lu gave him another weird look.

“Radio… static?”

Oh. He sat up and fiddled with the controls again. There was more noise this time, but he could hear a voice so that had to be right. He glanced over at Lu – no weird looks this time – and then turned up the volume so he could hear what was being said.

“Hey, uh, maybe not so loud? Kind of hurting my ears there man. Speakers’ll blow too.”

He turned it back down, frowning. He wasn’t sure how Lu could hear over the bloody ringing but it wasn’t his car yet so he’d play nice. The background noise was enough to keep him preoccupied anyway. He fiddled with the glove compartment, then opened it. Paper clips, sunglasses, registration. Boring things. A little toy frog. He raised a brow. Not _as_ boring. He pulled it out and frowned down at it. Then he put the sunglasses over its eyes. He giggled, drawing attention.

“Oh. Be careful with her. She’s a gift from a friend.”

“Wot kinda friend gets a grown man a stuffed frog for a gift?”

He knew he’d struck a bit of a nerve when Lu’s lips tightened, his brows knitted into a slight grimace. He glanced back at the frog and then back at Lu.

“The fun kind eh?”

The features softened and he earned a terse smile. His fingers pressed into the soft plush, the sunglasses slipping down its face. He fixed them, thoughtful.

“Y’know, there was this place me and Roadie went to once. Lots of games. All sorts. Played a couple’a few but they were rigged up good.”

Lu glanced his way, a slight tilt of the head to show that he was listening.

“They had this big fuck-off machine right in the middle of the place. Fancy glass and lights n’ all that. They had these little… toys in ‘em. Funny lookin’. Like… like an onion an’ a ockie put together.”

“Ockie.”

“Octopus.”

“Oh.” Lu looked down at the steering wheel, then tilted his head. “Were they called pachimari maybe?”

Junkrat scratched at his jaw, staring idly out the window.

“Sounds familiar. Probably. They squeak when ya hold ‘em.” He looked at his fingernails, picking at the dirt underneath. “Anyway. Roadie wanted one, but y’know those things, they’re rigged ta shit and y’may as well buy the damn thing before you get one outta it.”

“So you bought one for him.”

“Aw nah, we just broke the glass and made off with a buncha ‘em. Roadie slept like a baby for weeks.”

The car jerked to a stop and he had to fling his hands out to keep his face from slamming into the dashboard.

“You **_stole_** them?!”

His voice was so horrified and indignant that Rat couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled out of his chest. It continued for a good few minutes, Lu staring at him from the driver’s seat, the look on his face incredulous enough that he failed to stop two separate times, the laughter only really coming to a pause because he’d run out of breath. He wheezed, lungs aching, hands wrapped round his middle to clutch at his sides.

“I’m just-“ Another spurt of giggles. “I’m just having ya on mate.”

A frown from the other.

“It was a joke. All funsies.” More giggles. He couldn’t help it really. He was always a terrible liar. “No stealing things. I bought one for ‘im.”

He swallowed the final snort that tried to make its way out his nose, pinching at the skin by his waist. Lu eyed him suspiciously.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t steal anything.”

He dug his nails in deep.

“Swear on me Uncle Paul.”

Always hated the bastard.

Lu let out a slow breath, head tilting down towards his chest. For a few seconds he thought he might be dead, but then he rubbed his face, and put his hands back on the steering wheel.

“Do me a favour and don’t make jokes like that again. I don’t eat _nearly_ healthy enough for my heart to be able to take that kind of thing.”

 Junkrat grinned at him, all teeth.

“Who wants t’live forever anyway?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Dad, I'm Gay. 
> 
> Funfact: I got stuck on this Chapter right at the beginning when I was writing it and asked @hikarain for advice but then I was struck with some inspiration and continued writing. Later I went to see their reply and they said "Just make it gayer" and you know what?
> 
> That was exactly the inspiration I was struck with ladies and gentlemen and other fancy folks so if u are ever facing a block live by this creed.


End file.
